


Sober Heart

by alloftheorangejuice



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Complete, M/M, My First Destiel Fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 03:49:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2717759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alloftheorangejuice/pseuds/alloftheorangejuice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The angel had nearly killed them both as he struggled to drive the Impala for the first time, Dean gnashing his teeth and wailing, groaning in pain in the backseat, as they sped to the hospital. </p><p>After surgery, Castiel patiently (not-so-patiently) waits for Dean to awake. But when he does, he doesn't have all his faculties... and his delirious words pull at something in Castiel that he is certain Dean does not want to see. </p><p>Destiel - Fluff :)<br/>MY FIRST DESTIEL FANFICTION - Please tell me what you think...!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Patience

Castiel sat hunched over in the visitors’ chair, elbows on his knees, hands clasped, watching over Dean Winchester as he was sleeping- or- laying unconscious, rather- in the hospital bed. The angel’s dark blue eyes only left Dean to glance at the clock or over at the monitor to check his vitals, to make sure he was still okay, that he was still breathing, that his heart was still beating, that he'd be alright, just as the nurse had said he would.

Castiel replayed the nurse’s nonchalant words in his head.

 

"He’ll be _fine_ when he wakes up, albeit a bit loopy," the petite brunette had said. "We deal with this all the time, Mr. Novak. This is not an uncommon-"

"But the organ-"

"Yes. It ruptured. Burst, actually. But we know that the appendix isn't vital to human functioning, so, again, there is no need for you to offer yours… as replacement,” she continued slowly, watching Castiel’s unflinching gaze at an unconscious Dean. “It... it doesn't work like that. And the surgery went very well, so there is no need to worry.”

 

Castiel shifted in his chair and glanced up at the clock before returning his eyes directly to Dean's chest. It was still moving.

Castiel took a deep breath, slow and long, and then spoke to an otherwise empty room.

"Dean, you know I would- I would gladly give you my appendix if they would allow me, but," he paused to glance to the doorway, "they seem to be convinced it is not a necessary organ for humans. And in fact, if you are healing as well as they’ve told me, then perhaps they are correct. But I-"

He shook his head and creased his brow before continuing, his deep-voiced monologue filling the sterile environment.

"My father wouldn't have just... made humans with appendices if they weren't needed. I’ve done extensive research on human function, human anatomy and physiology, and I’ve never come across much on the human appendix.”

At this thought, Castiel tightened his jaw and slid his eyes to the side in a flicker of self-loathing before immediately returning his gaze to Dean. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the small marker board next to the bed where Sam had drawn just hours before. ‘Get better, jerk!’ was scrawled in red over what looked like a giraffe but was clearly supposed to be a moose, a stick figure with a scowling face and bowed legs, and another stick figure with two blue dots for eyes and wings that looked like leaves.

Sam had only been at the hospital briefly. Another emergency that had something to do with a woman Castiel had never heard of had come up at the same time Dean was scheduled to get out of surgery. But Sam determined Dean would be alright, especially with Castiel's dedicated oversight. 

“My most intensive studies were done with Mr. Pavlov. Incredible discoveries he made. And, I thought, perhaps due to it’s proximity and relation to the intestines, it would have a digestive function, but… Mr. Pavlov hadn’t discovered any significant data on it, despite his curious dedication to that particular system.”

Castiel gave a slight squint, narrowing his eyes.

“It could, possibly, play a role in the immune system. It does contain lymphoid tissue and perhaps it is a vestigial remnant of the cecum… perhaps it was evolution that rendered it useless."

He flinched at the echo of his own last word in his head and regret filled his eyes.

He looked at the monitor clip attached to Dean's finger.

Castiel wanted _more than anything_ to be able to walk over to his human and touch two gentle fingers to his forehead, leaving him healed and in no pain. Although he was aware that Dean was in fact _not_ dying and that he had recovered from much more serious injuries before, without the assistance of medical professionals none-the-less, still, waiting patiently for him to awake was getting difficult. Castiel was sure he should have woken by now and his own skepticism of hospital policy and practice in general had been making him uneasy about the whole process. Add in the fact that he was without enough grace to even get a read on Dean’s condition and Castiel was all but petrified about his recovery.

He took another glance at the clock.

It was 4:55. Visiting hours were over at 6:00. He had another hour before they would ask him to leave and Castiel still hadn’t seen him coherent since his surgery ended a few hours ago. _Anesthesia_ they had said. But Castiel squinted in distrust.

Castiel wasn’t fond of hospitals.

 

The first time Castiel had tried to enter a hospital as a human, he got caught. Well, perhaps it was technically the second time he tried. He had gotten through the main entrance the first time- in fact, he had gotten all the way to the main desk with Dean in an urgent huff to see a newly admitted Sam who had been rushed to the ER after a car accident. But when the receptionist had explained family-only admittance and then asked for identification and Dean pulled out his license, Castiel froze. His eyes went wide, his posture oddly rigid and he gave Dean a shifty sideways glance, the kind of a glance a teenager would send to a parent, hoping they were unaware of the joint that had surreptitiously fallen from their backpack to the floor. Dean had pulled Castiel away from the receptionist in a hurry, and pushed him back toward the entrance with a harshly whispered command to get his Federal ID from the glove box. Dean then immediately turned and jogged to the emergency wing.

A frazzled and worried Castiel found himself pulling at the door handles of the Impala, realizing it was locked and that Dean had the keys and that his cell phone was sitting patiently in the passengers seat seeming to gaze back up at Castiel as he pressed his forehead to the window, arms hanging at his sides, large blue eyes staring back at the flip-phone in defeat.

That was what had prompted his second try to enter the hospital, this time through a first story window. In a haze of worry he had scrambled up to a high window, strong, desperate hands gripping the window sill, feet scraping for purchase as he tried to pull himself up and in. He had gotten his shoulders through the cracked window before he heard the screams from inside. Seconds later, he was grabbed by security from behind, their hands roughly grabbing at his hips and pulling back as he flailed, trench coat swishing, half-in and half-out of the window and ranting between desperate breaths because _Dean and Sam are my family!_ and _this is very important! It’s- The King of Hell-_ (desperate flailing and heavy breathing) _he will get away!... you don’t want that blood on your hands!_ His voice, in between awkward breaths and gritted teeth, was at a low growl. _It must have been Crowley. It was a set-up- the car- the- the-_ he had stuttered, _the King of Hell!_ And apparently, that had made things worse and had gotten him an extra round of security at the main entrances and a few more by the emergency wing. Castiel had stood across the road, mildly disheveled with his hair this way and that, his hands in his pockets, looking up to the hospital in longing and self-pity, feeling very much like a baby in a trench coat. Dean had later chastised Castiel over a beer for not returning to the receptionist and asking to get Dean. _‘You- you climbed through the window?’ ‘I tried, Dean, but-‘ ‘Remind me not to take you on any stealth missions, alright buddy? At least not without your mojo,’_ Dean had said, causing a puppy-dog-eyed Castiel to look away and sulk. And they hadn't even been able to catch Crowley.

 

But that was months ago. And this was his first time in the hospital since that fateful window accident. The fear that had overtaken him this morning when he was forced to drive Dean, doubled over in pain, in the Impala to the hospital had worn off, but worry about the outcome of the surgery had come to set feverishly in its place. So Castiel kept talking to himself, both out loud and in his head.

Then Castiel’s eyes lit up. Perhaps he may have enough power to contact Dean in a dream? Just to see how he was doing! Just quickly to hear Dean talk, to see if he was alright.

But he was well aware that Dean would most likely not even know what happened until he actually woke up. He’d remembered Sam not knowing he was even in his dream when he had done it before. He wouldn’t know of his condition.

But it'd mean Castiel could talk to him! Just for a moment.

Castiel’s lips were pressed tight, but his eyes shone with promise, his posture a little bit straighter.

But he also knew Dean liked his privacy. And Castiel knew this very well. He had memorized Dean's stern voice, warning Castiel about personal space. And this was most likely not what Dean would consider an emergency.

So instead, Castiel just settled back into his chair with an obedient visage and nodded once, as if telling Dean he understood and stayed sitting in his chair, eyes glancing to his vitals and back again.

But he couldn’t help but feel the sad burn of lost hope.

Then the door to the room opened.

Castiel snapped to attention as the nurse closed the door quietly behind her.

It was the brunette from before who had told Castiel everything was going to be fine.

"He hasn't awoke," Castiel said sharply, getting to his feet.

"Yes, I see," she said, walking softly down the small hallway to walk over beside Dean’s cot.

"The anesthesiologist. She gave him too much anesthesia. She was-"

"She _is_ -" the nurse corrected, as Castiel glanced to her nametag- _Cindy_ , "the best anesthesiologist we have. And she most certainly didn’t. Again, Mr. Novak, Dean is healing perfectly fine."

Cindy put a light hand on Dean's wrist and glanced at the monitors.

"He's still doing just fine," she repeated, giving Castiel a slight smile she hoped would reassure him.

"He is not fine. I'd like to speak to the anesthesiologist,” Castiel said with an air of assuredness that his request would be honored.

She shook her head and retracted her hand from the bed.

"I'm sorry, but it's against hospital policy to-"

"To speak to people?" he said, his voice suddenly dark and gruff and rushed. "To ask them of their methods? Is this not a rational establishment dedicated to the betterment of-"

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to calm down," she said, using a hand to gesture _stop_ and furrowing her brows.

She glanced over the cot to Castiel’s hands, which were clenched tight at his sides.

"This is a hospital. For _humans_ ,” he snarled, his nose scrunching. “My father spoke of compassion and nothing but love and understanding for humanity and for a hospital to-"

"Wait," Cindy cut in, lowering her hand and taking a closer look at Castiel. "I know you said- you said Novak, but- are you- are you Mr. Teanick's son? _Thee_ Mr. Teanick? Like, this- _Teanick_ Medical Center?”

Castiel squinted, suddenly perplexed at the change of topic.

"No. No, I'm- I'm Castiel Novak."

They stood looking at each other over Dean’s bed for a brief moment, a puzzled look on both of their faces, Castiel's head tilted slightly to the side.

Then the nurse seemed to stiffen and look away. She dropped her hands to her sides, taking a few steps backwards before turning to hustle towards the door.

"You know, I'll- I'll get the doctor. And- and maybe see if I can get Trina for you! The anesthesiologist, I mean," she stuttered, slipping back out the door with only a quick glance back to Castiel.

And then the sound of the shutting door echoed in the hollow room and Castiel was alone with Dean again.

Castiel took a deep breath and tried to relax his hands, his gaze flitting across Dean’s figure, confused at the sudden change their conversation had taken. He thought back to the guards pulling him from the window and grimaced. He hoped he hadn’t made too much of a negative impression on the Cindy.

Castiel’s eyes drifted up to Dean’s.

Dean. His Dean Winchester. His human.

He stood next to Dean’s shoulder, and imagined his eyes as he’d last seen them, the vivid, hot greens and deep olives filled with frustration and pain.

Castiel felt the air press out of his lungs.

His bottom lip quivered once.

The cheap, incandescent lighting from overhead couldn't prevent Castiel’s eyes from lingering on Dean’s face and admitting, to himself, that he believed Dean was a beautiful human. Even with his eyes closed, Castiel could still trace his eyes along his jawline, rough and unshaven, and flit his eyes across the bridge of his nose to study his light brown freckles. And he could still study the curve of his lips as if he were afraid he’d forget what they’d look like when visiting hours were over.

Castiel’s eyes were desperate but they were soft.

He was afraid of what trouble he’d get into later on, when he executed his first plan, Plan A, and tried to hide in the shower so the nurses would think he had gone home. He wasn’t afraid for the trouble itself, just afraid of losing his place beside Dean’s bed.

He would always watch over him. _I will always watch over him and I will always be Dean's angel,_ Castiel thought. _No matter what._

And he would always respect what Dean wanted.

Or didn’t want.

Whatever it was.

No matter what.

And that meant no dream-invasions.

Castiel let his eyes drift down to where he saw Dean’s collarbone peeking out of the hospital gown. He lingered on it absent-mindedly before studying its curve, its strong angle across the top of his chest and its dip down at the inner edge. Castiel squinted thoughtfully at the light shadow it created.

But before Castiel could realize he’d been holding his breath and sigh- he heard a rugged, broken voice.

"Cas?"

Castiel's eyes widened and he snapped his gaze to glassy, _open_ , emerald green eyes.

"Dean."


	2. Falling

_But before Castiel could realize he’d been holding his breath and sigh- he heard a rugged, broken voice._

_"Cas?"_

_Castiel's eyes widened and he snapped his to Dean, to glossy, open, emerald green eyes._

_"Dean."_

 

__

 

"Cas," Dean said again, reaching a long arm up to grip the side of Castiel's face and clumsily pull it close to his own. "Cas, is that you?"

"Dean," Castiel repeated, his body tense and awkwardly bent over the bed before him, inches from Dean’s nose. "Yes, Dean. It's me," Cas said, his eyes softening as he held his gaze steady, trying to read into Dean through his reciprocated stare.

_Dean! Dean was awake!_

"Cas, I- what-"

"You had surgery to remove your appendix,” Castiel started, immediately reverting to Professor Castiel. “It ruptured this morning while I was making breakfast. Do you remember? You were in such pain and- and I drove you to the hospital in the Impala. Dean, you said I could drive the Impala and I drove it- I drove you here," he rambled, fearful of Dean’s reaction to him driving Baby and momentarily distracted by the heat of Dean's breathing on his lips.

He took a sharp breath and tried to compose himself.

"And they told me that your appendix had burst and I told them to take mine, Dean. I told them to take mine, but they wouldn't do it and they told me you didn't need an appendix- that humans-"

"Cas."

"-humans don't actually need the appendix, but I thought that wasn't right because my father-"

"Cas."

"-my father-"

"Cas, stop."

Cas stopped. He snapped his mouth shut and swallowed, a frown appearing on his face.

Dean smirked- or at least it started as a smirk and then morphed into a teeth-baring grin, his eyes shining in drug induced haze. Then he started to snicker. And chuckle.

Cas squinted.

"Dean-"

"You- you- you offered your-" Dean started before collapsing into a fit of laughter. He dropped his hand from Castiel and brought his hands to his stomach, seizing as he laughed and laughed.

Castiel took a step back and kept his eyes on Dean, his frown still apparent.

Dean's laughter filled the room. It was hearty. Loud. He could make out glossy tears at the corner of Dean’s eyes. And something inside Castiel started to twist. He cast his gaze to the ground, away from the bed, as he waited for Dean to regain his composure.

"You- ha! You offered your appendix! To- to- I..."

Dean's eyes started to close slightly before he snapped them open. He kept his eyes wide and looked around the room, as if realizing where he was for the first time.

"Dean, I'm... I'm sorry that I couldn't heal you- that I can't heal you. My-" Castiel stuttered, his gaze flicking to Dean with shame, "-my grace... I have nowhere near enough to heal you, or take away the pain, even if the pain is minimal. It wouldn't do a thing. I can- I can barely hear prayers."

Dean continued his intense, delirious gaze around the room until his eyes landed on Castiel. Big, glassy green eyes locked onto his.

But Castiel’s face was consumed with frailty.

"I'm- I'm sorry, Dean. I'm afraid that, right now, I am nothing more than- a baby in a trench coat."

At this, Castiel looked away from Dean.

"I'm useless," Castiel added.

"Cas."

Castiel's eyes wandered the wall on the far side of the room, fearful of what he’d find if he looked back to his awaiting human.

“Cas, look- _look_ at me.”

Castiel steadied his breath and his will before making his eyes shift back over to Dean. He was still staring at Cas from his propped up pillow, his jaw set, his head tilted toward the angel.

"Cas, I can be a reeeeaaaal ass. To you. I know that."

Dean's words slurred together and his neck rolled when he spoke it apparent exaggeration.

His eyes fluttered shut for a few seconds.

Worry bloomed over Castiel's face.

"But," Dean continued, opening his eyes, "you're awesome. You're... you're more than awesome."

Cas stood still, unsure of what to do or say. He just stood there, body rigid, brows pinched in worry, staring at Dean from the corner of his eyes.

"You're not a baby. And your trench coat- is kick-ass. It's hot. It makessss you look- like a bamfffff..."

Castiel swallowed hard again, hoping it wasn't audible

"A- a bam-"

"A bamf. A bad-ass-mother-fucker, Cas."

"Oh."

Castiel felt warmth flood his face.

Dean continued to hold his gaze, lingering like they always did when they both had words to say but did not speak.

They looked in at each other for a long moment, trying to reach inside each other to grasp onto something- anything- before Dean's eyes broke contact.

"Now, let's- let's get-" Dean started, awkwardly pulling the small heart rate clip from his finger and swinging his feet to the side of the bed.

"Dean, wait-"

"No, Castiel. We gotta-"

Castiel flinched at the use of his full name, but before he could speak, Dean started to try and stand. Castiel gasped as Dean put one foot on the ground at a time and pushed himself up.

He did stand, perhaps for a moment or two, with a slumped posture he’s see Dean carry after a few beers. Castiel watched him carefully, his own hands ready at his sides, as he analyzed Dean’s uneasy movements.

Dean’s eyes flickered.

Then his eyes rolled back and his knees buckled beneath him.

Castiel launched forward to catch him. He got one arm wedged under Dean’s and the other hand landed to brace him on the opposite shoulder. But he was heavy- dead weight- and he heard the swishing sound of his trench coat as Dean slid down his front.

"Dean! Dean!"

Dean’s entire frame pressed into him, his face sliding down far enough to press into Castiel's chest.

Cas strained and held him there, his own knees staggered and bent under the weight, his eyes wide with concern, damning himself for his absence of grace.

"De-"

And then Dean's arm lifted and reached up and across Castiel's back. Slowly, he put a foot firmly on the ground and tried to lift some of his weight.

Dean slurred.

"That was- it's not? That’s not it's not the first time I fell for an angel. _Heh_."

Castiel scrunched his brows and lifted Dean as he tried to stand, slowly guiding him until he sat back on the edge of the bed. Dean immediately slumped and reached out to roughly grab the lapel of Castiel's trench coat. The sudden, rough contact startled Cas and his blue eyes went wide. Then he felt Dean’s grip immediately start to loosen. Castiel kept one hand on Dean's shoulder to keep him from falling forward.

"Dean, what are you talking about? I've-" he paused, squinting, trying to think harder about what he could have meant, "I've caught you plenty of times, that I know, but..."

Dean's head bobbed down and back up again, his eyes glazing over.

Cas's lips popped open in shock.

"Are you okay? Dean, how do you feel? Is there pain? Does it feel like- like something is missing?" he asked, clearly worried that he would be able to feel the space where the organ had once been.

But Dean's head sagged down again.

Cas quickly reached up from his crouched position in front of him to put a calloused hand on his cheek, keeping his head up, and stood up just enough to look behind Dean to the bed. The far end had a metal bar; he couldn't just lay him down. He'd have to get Dean to stand up to lay him back down properly.

Castiel gave a quick sigh.

"Dean, I need you to-"

"Cas."

Cas shifted his eyes back to Dean to find them, his glowing, glazed green eyes, looking deep into his own.

Castiel blushed, a full pink tint blooming across his cheeks.

They had looked in at each other many of times. For them, it was almost as customary as a human handshake; and Castiel had gotten used to conveying their emotions through their eyes. He found it to be a window into Dean’s soul and he had also found it usually gave him a glimpse as to what was really going through Dean’s head.

Their noses were no farther than a foot from brushing. He could feel Dean’s breath on his nose again. And then, Castiel quickly realized what he was doing. He was... _he was invading Dean's personal space_.

Cas clenched his jaw and his ears rose up in horror, but before he could remove his hand from his cheek, Dean covered it with his own, keeping it up against his well-past-5o'clock shadow.

Cas looked at Dean's hand on top of his, his body rigid with shock. He stared at Dean's fingers, some fallen between the spaces of his own. He stared at them with intent. With amazement. With- _with confusion_.

"Dean."

"Cas, I- I need to tell you."

Castiel's eyes widened, but he didn't return them to Dean's eyes. He kept his gaze trained on their hands, resting snuggly on top of one another, two strong hands nearly intertwined, at the side of Dean's face.

His stubble scratched his palm. And his cheek was warm.

"Castiel, my angel," Dean whispered.

At this, Cas looked back to Dean's eyes. It was instinctive. A reaction to Dean’s call. And Castiel felt something inside of him start to pull, like a string tugging at a firework, ready to burst.

_Castiel, my angel._

"I have- I have to say, that..." Dean started, consciously trying to keep his head from drooping down, to keep looking at Castiel, "I have always loved, always, loved cake."

Castiel's jaw tightened, because now Cas is worried because _yes, Dean likes cake_ , but _he loves pie_. This is all wrong. _Dean is not okay._

"I've always loved cake but I've always loved angel food cake more than other cakes. Even more than ice creeeam cake er red velvet cake err iced lemon cake, always, angel food cake."

"You need to lie down."

"No, Cas, you- you need to listen’nuh me."

"Dean, you aren't aware of what you're saying. The anesthesiologist, Trina, she gave you too much anesthesia and you're still out of it. They also gave you medication for the pain and to heal, and I need you to-"

"Castiel," Dean whispered, pressing Cas's hand just a bit more into his own.

Castiel fought the urge to stop and acknowledge how something inside him fluttered when Dean said his name. When he said _Castiel_.

"You love..." Castiel started, pausing to bite his lip and convince himself to speak. Castiel nodded his head slowly at Dean, "...pie. You love pie."

Dean pursed his lips just slightly and then slowly nodded back, releasing Cas’s hand and letting it fall with his to Dean’s lap.

All the tension rushed out of Castiel's body as he exhaled sharply and dropped his eyes to his fallen hand. But he didn't pull it away. He couldn't. Dean still held his hand. He awkwardly had a few fingers gripping the angel's hand sideways, his pointer finger latched around his thumb.

When he looked up, he found he couldn’t read Dean’s face. And then Dean was drifting, falling forward, his eyes heavy-lidded.

"Dean, you-"

By the time he realized Dean's lips were going to touch his, Castiel had tensed up and jolted back slightly, gripping Dean's arms and causing Dean's mouth to just brush his cheek before falling to knock his forehead to the top of Cas's shoulder.

Castiel's eyes were wide, his whole body completely frozen. He was still, afraid to move, to breathe- afraid to do anything.

A slow, shuddering breath escaped his lips. He felt Dean’s body weight against him and the spot on his cheek that seemed sting with warmth like he was stung by a honeybee. And it felt like his entire body had been set on fire. He was tingling and- was he trembling? He tightened his hands around Dean’s biceps, feeling the weight of his tall frame bent towards him.

He could feel it.

Dean was unconscious again.

Castiel looked across the room and focused on the drawings Sam had made, trying to concentrate, trying to calm himself down. He took a deep breath and heard Dean's voice in his head, as he had heard many times before.

_‘No, no, we don't do that. That’s not- that’s not okay,’_ or, _‘Hey, buddy. Uh-uh. Come on. Personal space,’_ and _‘Cut it out. That’s not a thing that two dudes do, alright?’_

What the conscious, able-minded Dean had always said…

Castiel pressed his eyes shut.

He took another deep breath, Dean's hair just inches below his nose.

_Hospital smell. And oak. And leather, like from the Impala_.

He moved a hand to cradle the back of Dean's head and lifted up to lay him down on an angle, his torso twisted to avoid the metal bar, and lay on the bottom half of the cot, his arms slipping from Cas's back to fall to the soft surface.

Castiel avoided looking at Dean's face as he moved his body slightly. He tucked his arms in a bit, just so he looked a bit more comfortable. Then he took a few steps backwards until he was at the plastic chair again and sat down, keeping his eyes on Dean's feet the whole time as they hung loosely over the edge of the bed.

He took another deep breath, trying to keep his chest steady, trying to return uneven breaths to smooth, even inhales and exhales.

He looked down at his hands.

He was still trembling.

He touched his cheek.

He glanced up to Dean's face. He was sleeping. Or unconscious.

But Castiel would watch over him until he woke. No matter what.

Because he was Dean's angel. And because he would always be Dean's angel. And he'd always respect what Dean wanted. What he knew that Dean wanted. Because that had to be what Dean wanted. Even if Dean didn't know it right now.

It had to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every Kudos I get, every bookmark and ESPECIALLY every comment, no matter how brief, just makes me so happy. It sounds silly, but I've been a writer for a long time but haven't shared my work, so having people READ and acknowledge my stuff... it just feels better than I could ever imagine.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who is reading! The biggest help would be to either follow or reblog me with tags on Tumblr. I'd love to start interacting with the Fandom and seeing what THEY want to read about regarding our lovely Dean and Castiel. 
> 
>  
> 
> I'm 'alloftheorangejuice' everywhere... anyone get the reference...? ;) 
> 
> THANK YOU, EVERYONE! :)


	3. Call

When Dean's eyes flickered open a half an hour later, Castiel could tell he was still under the influence of- well, something. It took Dean a good three minutes to get to his feet, but he could only stand while holding Castiel's hands out in front of him, like a father would hold a child's hands as they learned to take their first steps.

"How do you feel?" Castiel asked, his voice grave, his eyes analyzing Dean's.

Dean hadn't said a word since waking for the second time, but to Castiel's query, he gave a jerky nod.

Castiel nodded in return, keeping his hands holding Dean's, his own palms up so Dean could decide if he wanted to let go and try on his own.

Castiel had taken careful note of the clock, ticking away the minutes of the day. There were only another five minutes left before visiting hours were over. Sam had promised to be back in time so that he could take Castiel’s place, although he would still much rather attempt his overnight shower stay.

_Family. Relatives only._

Castiel pressed his lips together as he remembered the receptionist’s curt words.

Dean turned as if he wanted to take a step to his left and Castiel turned aside slightly, letting him slowly maneuver a foot to go forward. Dean did this twice while Castiel stood still until he was no longer supported by Cas's hands, and then began to sway. Cas returned to his side and put a left arm across Dean's shoulder.

Dean continued and they walked to the door slowly, _very slowly_ , as Castiel steadied him with his arm.

"You're doing well," Castiel said with a slight smile, realizing they were approaching the door. "But- I’m not sure how much movement is necessary in your current state.  I think- I think I’d be best if you rested a bit more- at least until you’re a bit more coherent.”

Dean, still shuffling forward in his surgery gown, didn't seem to hear Castiel and continued to walk towards the door until they were only feet from the exit in the small hallway leading up to the door. He could hear the noises of the main hallway just beyond the room.

Dean shifted a bit to the side, like a new sailor on a ship, causing Castiel’s arm to slide against the small patch of exposed skin between the back panels of his hospital gown.

“Dean-“

Dean righted himself and then stopped. He didn't sway, but his head dropped slightly, as if he was trying to keep himself from falling asleep, but barely hanging on.

Cas put his right hand to the wall to brace himself for a collapse, the other holding Dean across his back in a tight side-embrace.

"Dean," Cas prompted. "Dean?"

Dean’s eyes flickered open.

“I’d be wise for you to return to the bed. I’m happy to find that you are able to wake and move around, but your equilibrium is still without enough functionality to keep yourself upright. How- how are you feeling?”

Dean turned his head to look at Castiel. His eyes were still glazed over and glassy. They looked tired. Empty. But perhaps they also looked shaded, like Dean had drawn the blinds to hide something.

“I’m good,” Dean said, making Castiel smile and flush with mirth.

“Good.”

Dean kept his eyes on Castiel for another moment and then slowly, in a controlled, deliberate manner, turned his body to face Castiel, his head still slightly bowed, and leaned forward let his head drop to Castiel's shoulder, just as he had been when he was unconscious a half hour before.

Castiel stiffened only slightly, knowing that Dean was probably dizzy from all the movement and of course, he didn’t want Dean to think Cas was getting the wrong idea. He kept his left hand draped across the back of Dean's shoulders in a sort of semi-hug and then felt Dean lean closer to him. Dean shuffled just a bit until his shoulder and chest touched the angels own, his shoulders slumped, hands limp by his sides.

"Dean, Dean, are you okay? You need to lie back down. I can-"

Castiel inhaled sharply and closed his eyes.

Dean had pushed aside Castiel's trench coat and jacket and was resting a hand firmly on Castiel’s waist, his thumb making almost unnoticeable movements against the thin fabric of his white dress shirt.

Castiel froze. Dean's breath was hot over his collar. He had turned his head so that his lips nearly brushed the angel's neck and Castiel couldn't help but release a shivering breath over Dean's head.

"Dean..."

His voice came out broken and helpless. An Angel of the Lord, reduced to nothing more than a weak sound at the simple touch of a human. He hated himself for it. But he could do nothing.

He could feel his chest rise and fall faster than normal and he tried to steady his hand on Dean's shoulder.

This is not what Dean wants.

_This is not what Dean wants._

He glanced down to the side of Dean's head, looking at his dark blonde hair flipping out from over his ear.

When Castiel spoke, he spoke very slowly in a low, raspy whisper, trying to block out the beating of his heart in his ears.

"Dean, I know that... in your current state, you are unable to think things through, the things that you're saying," Castiel said, craning his neck down to look at the placement of Dean's hand, "or doing..."

Castiel tried to swallow the knot in his throat, tried to swallow his words, but he could not.

"...so there is… there is no need to worry that your... actions... will be misconstrued," he said, his voice shaking. "I understand your needs and, I respect your boundaries and do not wish for you to worry about how I perceive them while you wait for the medication to wear off."

Castiel closed his eyes and nodded his head down just slightly. The leather, the oak… it was mixed together in a scent that Castiel feared made his pupils dilate.

A tingling sensation ran up his spine.

“Dean, as much as I-“

Castiel caught himself. He felt Dean’s other hand find the other indent on his waist, right about his hipbone. His grip was loose, but it was there.

_Oh, was it there._

Castiel squeezed his eyes shut harder before opening them at Dean’s movement. The hands on his waist pressed Castiel back an inch to the wall with bodyweight as Dean lifted his head off Castiel’s shoulder to look into his angel’s eyes.

Cas’s eyes were wide and blue with fear and shock.

But there they were… swirling emerald greens- and something in them that Castiel had only witnessed in his dreams.

“Cas.”

And something inside Castiel broke at this. Something so simple, something that has come out of Dean’s mouth so many times… but that simple word- that’s what did it. Dean calling him by his name. Dean’s call.

Castiel’s bottom lip twitched.

He felt his jaw clench and his brows pinch and his throat knot.

Dean dropped his eyes and leaned forward but Castiel tilted his head down so that their foreheads knocked together.

Every inch of Castiel vibrated. Shook. Trembled. His breath shuddered. Tears brimmed his lashes, making them a reflection of the glassy eyes before him.

Dean brought a hand up to slip strong fingers through Castiel’s dark hair, pausing to keep his grip on the back of his head.

Castiel’s breath hitched and he reached for it, as deep as he could go, with everything he had, to pull it out of himself. It hurt. No, it was excruciating. It made it feel as if the insides of his bones were being scraped of marrow, of why they were made in the first place.

He took one last deep, shaky breath, intoxicated by Dean’s proximity, his lips just inches away from a captured dream, and whispered.

“Dean, I can’t- I can’t let you do this. I-”

But he couldn’t finish. The words wouldn’t form from his chapped lips.

Castiel gritted his teeth and stared at Dean’s pink lips, everything inside of him pulled tight as a string.

He let out a breath.

He licked his lips.

He bit his lips.

He stared.

And then he heard a voice.

It was familiar and muffled but coming closer.

It was Sam’s voice.

Castiel felt his breath immediately pressed out of him but before he could regain his composure, the door swung open.

The door missed Castiel and Dean by about a foot, but Sam was still shocked to find them there- Castiel looking awkward and helpless, trying to support Dean’s weight, and Dean, looking as if he’d collapsed and fallen asleep right there, his shoulders slumped, his arms- both hanging at his sides, his head draped over Cas’s shoulder.

“He’s-“

“Out?” Sam said, cutting Castiel off.

Castiel narrowed his gaze and shook his head, his heart firing in his chest so fast, he swore Sam could see his tie vibrating on his chest like a bass speaker.

“Here, let me,” Sam said, wedging an arm between the two of them to lift Dean’s weight from Cas.

The pressure lifted from Castiel’s chest as Sam half carried, half walked Dean to the bed. Castiel immediately felt cold.

He gave a worried look to Sam as he tried to position Dean comfortably on the bed, Dean’s head rolling about in the process. But when Castiel shifted his gaze out the door, he caught the eye of the nurse, the nurse who he’d tried to convince to let him see Trina the anesthesiologist- Cindy.

She pointed at Castiel, whispering to the stately looking man who stood next to her and they both started walking over to him.

“Hey, you,” Cindy chirped as she approached.

Castiel raised his brows before resigning to his fate.

Castiel gave a sorrowful glance at Dean, now seeming to rest peacefully in the bed with Sam looking over his computer monitor, and returned his attention to Cindy.

“Listen,” she said. “I know you’re only here to see your friend and I know you really care about him, but, Castiel Novak? I need you-“

“It’s okay,” Castiel said, holding Cindy’s eyes in assurance. “I understand. Visiting hours are over anyway. I’ll be leaving now.”

Cindy nodded, but her auburn brows pinched together and she frowned.

The man to her left did not move and kept a trained eye on the angel, clearly waiting for Castiel to make his way out of the building. He looked at the man and sighed deeply.

He turned over his shoulder to call to Sam.

“Sam, give Dean my regards. There’s… something I must take care of.”

Sam’s eyes flitted between Cindy, the large man and Cas before raising an eyebrow and tilting his head. The silent question.

“It’s okay,” Castiel said, giving Sam a tight lipped smile.

Sam nodded, slowly coming to an agreement. “Alright,” he said.

Castiel gave one final nod and started his way out down the hall and out of the building. As he walked, he could hear the resolute footsteps of the guard behind him, following closely.

When he reached the Impala, he stopped, slowly roaming his pockets until he found the keys. When he had them, he held them out in his hands, watching them catch the blinding light of the afternoon sun.

He got in the car and sat in the driver’s seat. He pulled on his seatbelt and put his hands on the wheel, the car still not started, the world hot and silent.

He sat there staring across the parking lot to the hospital’s main entrance.

He tried to guess which window was Dean’s room.

He dropped his hands from the wheel and brought a hand up to cover his face.

He moved his other hand to the crook of his waist, where the warmth had been just minutes before, where a thumb had brushed heavy into his side. And he bit his lip hard enough to taste a stiff acid in his mouth.

A strangled sound came from Castiel’s throat and he pressed his hand to his face harder. His long fingers gripped his side.

His bottom lip pulled straight as he steeled himself.

He thought of Dean’s eyes.

_Cas._

_Dean. What are you doing to me?_


	4. I Dream of Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N -- Ah! Sorry that's been... oh, god. A year? Let's just say I started writing fanfiction at a certain time in my life as a creative release... and I'm... back to one of those times in my life. :) I hope this chapter is ample reward for the wait. I'm almost finished with the final chapter.   
> As always, I love hearing from you. What did you like? What was your favorite part? Happy reading!

The next day, Castiel was sitting at the Winchester’s hotel table with a mind no better described than racing and restless. He’d just received the phone call to say that Dean was coming home today. Sam had to be the one to do it, of course. They were still adamant about not letting Cas back into the hospital. Castiel could still see the strict nod of nurse as she pointed him out to the security guard. But Dean was coming _home_ , and, just like when he was at the hospital, Castiel couldn’t keep his eyes from twitching toward the clock every few seconds.

For the time Castiel had been alive, for the millions of years he'd been in existence, those few hours until Dean returned should have passed as fast as a whisper in a storm, but it felt far from it. Castiel sat, stood, sat again, paced into the kitchen, wandered back out, sat, stood, rummaged through a book of lore. He dusted the nooks and crannies of the old, composite furniture with his trench coach sleeve and re-made the already made beds, and even downed two of the beers Dean had left in the fridge, two bottles of Winger’s Red Ale. He recited the Gideon’s Bible from memory and then read from the book in the nightstand drawer to see if the versions had changed. (They did.) He set and reset the alarm clocks and figured out how to use all their features. He took his time selecting the radio stations for the alarm, too, listening to 103.7 and 108.8 and 88.3 for fifteen minutes each to see which ones played more classic rock, which ones played more of the songs Castiel had remembered bumbling their way out of the Impala. When 103.7 played For Whom the Bell Tolls, he smirked. When it played Carry on My Wayward Son, he waited until the song ended, clicked the alarm button to set the station, and shut the radio off.

He sat in the silence.

He stared at his phone, at the contact page for Dean Winchester. He wondered if Dean maybe had his phone back? Maybe if he called him, Dean would answer. But what would he say? Last time they’d spoken, Dean’s hand was… somewhere it never been before and the words he had said… What would he say to him now? Would Dean even remember what happened? Would Dean even believe Castiel if he told him what Dean had done? 

He looked at the time on the wall. 11:13. Then, he looked to the empty beer bottles on the table before him. He vaguely remembered Dean mentioning something about certain hours being made for drinking. Perhaps he had, but he was quite sure Dean didn’t follow those rules, anyway. 

It would still be hours before Dean would be back. Sam was at the library with a new research partner, Francesca, and said he wouldn’t be home until later, with Dean. He’d been purposely out of the hotel for a while recently, not spending much time with Cas or Dean when he was around. Dean scoffed, girls, girls, girls. But Castiel saw something else in Sam's recurrent absence. He just didn’t know what.

So Castiel sat at the table, staring at his hands, open palms to the ceiling, eyes glancing to the clock, until he found himself slipping into a sleep that was so human that he started to dream…

He could have sworn he heard someone calling his name… _Castiel_ … 

\--

Castiel found himself right back in the hospital, his back to the white walls, his chest occupied with a rapid, restless heart, and emerald green eyes staring at him from an inch away. 

He felt Dean’s fingers shift over his waist, his white shirt feeling like nothing at all underneath the heat of his hands. 

“Cas.”

Castiel shook his head, his eyes shimmering with liquid blue, his bottom lip quivering.

“Dean, please.”

Dean’s eyes seemed to regain some consciousness at his words.

“Please?” Dean echoed.

“Please, don’t.”

Castiel was shivering like a leaf, as if Dean had the angel blade to his throat instead of his hot breath on his lips. 

“Cas, I—I—“

“—don’t want this. You, you—“ Castiel choked. “You don’t want _this_ , Dean.”

Castiel looked frightened, absolutely petrified. Desperate. 

“This?”

“This. _Me_.”

Dean’s brows wrinkled. 

“I’ve always watched over you,” Cas said. “It’s my duty to know you, to understand what you say and what you don’t say, Dean. And I’ve watched you. I understand your needs and your desires. This isn’t what you want. And this vessel, this, _this isn’t what you want_. You—“ Castiel blinked his eyes rapidly, dissipating the building tears. But his face was straight, determined. “It’s my _duty_ ,” he said, “to _protect_ you.”

Castiel flashed his bold eyes as Dean. 

Dean was just staring, his eyes steady, ears listening.

“And I _will_ protect you, Dean.”

His words were certain. Direct. Powerful, if not angel-like, despite his unsteady exterior.

Then Castiel felt Dean’s grip loosen, each finger of his best friend’s hands slowly slip from his waist, until his sides felt like the cool underside of a pillow. Dean stepped back, his arms at his sides and just shook his head. 

That’s when Castiel realized that Dean was fully-clothed in his jacket and jeans. And they weren’t in the hospital. They were standing on a dock, Dean’s back to a smog covered lake, Castiel two steps in front of the righteous man, looking at him in the overcast light.

“From what?” Dean said, opening his arms and shaking his head. “Protect me from what, Cas? What are you trying to save me from?”

His words were harsh. Clipped. 

Castiel thought to himself and then opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He went to take a step, but he couldn’t move. Panicked, he looked down at his feet. He willed himself to move, to budge, but he was immobile. His body was frozen. 

When he looked up again, Dean was stepping backwards slowly, eyes holding the angel’s in that long, disconnected stare that said so much. 

_Dean_ , Cas thought. _Dean, stop._

Cas clenched his jaw. Dean kept stepping backwards until his left foot swung back out over the dock, over the dark waters. 

_Dean!_

“Protect me from what, Cas?”

_Dean!_

And Dean stepped back and dropped into the water with a resounding splash. The sound echoed through the surrounding trees and quickly died over the land as Castiel stood and watched the foaming water dissipate. 

Dean was gone.

Cas waited for some kind of sign, the water bubbling slowly, helpless but to watch his best friend sink deeper into the depths of the lake. He tried to move, but he was still immobile. 

Panic flushed Castiel’s cheeks. The water slowly became still as glass and the entire world around him fell into a pin-drop silence.

Almost immediately Castiel realized he was dreaming. 

_Dreaming? He was dreaming? He was asleep? This wasn’t real?_

This wasn't real.

The realization shocked him, but it was quickly over powered by the shock of the sudden rush of water from the end of the dock.

Dean re-surfaced, gasping for air, flailing.

And Castiel, _Castiel could move._

“Dean!”

And speak.

He dove to the end of the dock, fell to his knees and reached out his arms.

“Dean! Dean! Grab onto me!”

And, gasping, Dean did, his heavy, wet clothes slapping against Castiel’s trench coat. His eyes were red, burning, his body was heavy and Castiel felt a pull. He felt Dean pull him, but Dean was flustered. Dean wasn’t pulling—Dean he was being pulled under. 

“Dean, climb up! Come on!” Castiel yelled as he tried to drag Dean through the molasses-like water toward the wooden boards.

“Cas.”

“Dean, please!”

“Please?”

“Please don’t—“

“Don’t what? Drown?”

Cas paused in his struggle, keeping just enough grip to hold Dean up out of the water as he looked, shocked, into Dean’s eyes.

“I thought you said you’d protect me?” Dean said, his breath returning to normal, the pull getting stronger beneath him.

“Dean, this is a dream.”

“Then let me go.”

“What?”

“Isn’t that what you want? Can’t you do what you want in a dream?”

“Dean!”

“Stop it, Cas!”

“Dean, please!” Cas cried, now struggling to keep Dean’s upper body out of the water. His black shoes scraped the wooden boards. He was being pulled in with him.

“Please! Dean, please!”

“Do you want to protect me, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean, yes. I want to protect you. _Please!_ ”

Castiel’s voice was cracking now. He flashed back to all the times he’d seen Dean put himself into the line of fire, or into danger he knew he probably wouldn’t walk out of. He thought of all the times he had failed him and hadn’t been there. All the times Dean got out by sheer luck. 

The fabric of his suit pants ripped on the dock.

“Dean!”

Dean gripped Castiel’s arms, hard, and got as close to Cas as he could manage, still mostly submerged at the end of the dock, holding on, looking up.

Dean looked into Castiel’s eyes as something thrashed in the water beneath him, pulling him down. He saw his own reflection in Castiel’s ocean blues, his desperation, his own fear.

And then Dean’s eyes turned sad and lost, and he spoke.

“Then why don’t you start by saving me first?”

Dean’s bottom lip quivered once before steeling, and his grip on Castiel suddenly seemed more intimate than anything that had happened at the hospital. 

A flash of hope and insight flashed through the angel that felt a lot like desperation. He jerked Dean towards him with one, slippery grip, and with the other grabbed the back of Dean’s wet head and leaned down as far as he could to kiss him. 

It was unbalanced. Slippery. Every muscle in Castiel’s body was firing to keep him positioned right, to keep him from falling, to keep him holding Dean. But a strong hand reached up into the tousled, dark hair of Castiel to held their lips together. The kiss, despite the water, was scruffy. Rough. Desperate. But almost slow, almost like the act was painful. Both of their faces were twisted in sorrow. Castiel face had gotten wet, but he could not tell from what. He was crying. He was holding Dean, his best friend, his human.

They didn’t pause to realize that the tugging beneath the water had disappeared, that the lake had once again become as calm as glass. The forest was silent, the air still. And for a long moment it was just the two of them, Castiel leaning over the dock, a strong hand on Dean’s arm and head, Dean reaching up from the water, holding onto his angel, kissing slowly, passionately, dripping with water and doing their best to remember that they were the ones doing the saving. 

\--

Castiel woke with a jolt. 

“Shhh!” Sam hissed, gesturing for Cas to follow him into the kitchen.

Castiel nodded, suddenly alert and awake but absolutely dazed about the dream sequence he’d just been shocked out of. He put a hand to his chest and started to take a deep inhale— when he saw him. 

Dean was right _there_ , curled up in front of Castiel, sleeping on the hotel couch, his hair sticking up this way and that in the last rays of the afternoon light.


	5. Always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Dean comes home from surgery, Castiel wonders what Dean remembers from his drug-induced talks at the hospital...

_Castiel woke with a jolt._

_“Shhh!” Sam hissed, gesturing for Cas to follow him into the kitchen._

_Castiel nodded, suddenly alert and awake but absolutely dazed about the dream sequence he’d just been shocked out of. He put a hand to his chest and started to take a deep inhale— when he saw him._

_Dean was right there, curled up in front of Castiel, sleeping on the hotel couch, his hair sticking up this way and that in the last rays of the afternoon light._

 - - -

 

A blanket was tucked in around him, just barely covering his large, bow-legged frame. When a golden beam of last light caught the bow of Dean’s lip, Castiel froze.

He remembered his immobility in what seemed like just a moment before.

_Then why don’t you start by saving me first?_

Castiel scrambled up, jolting the table in the process, trying to take his eyes off Dean, sleeping right there, with those same lips he’d just… just…

“Cas,” Sam said, now with a look of confusion and concern on his face as he stood in the frame that separated the living area from the little kitchen.

Castiel swallowed and tried to compose himself. He nodded and moved around the couch, not taking his eyes off Dean as he walked. Once he passed the sofa, he finally turned his head and let Sam close the saloon style deco doors behind him, leaving the two of them alone in the kitchen.

“You okay?” Sam asked, turning away from the door to look at Castiel.

“I—yes. Yes. Dean. Is he—“

“He’s fine,” Sam said and sat down at the small round table. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look… exhausted. And, kind of pale, actually.”

“I’m fine, Sam,” Castiel said with the most sincerity he could conjure. “I just… fell asleep.”

“Yeah. I guess you aren’t used to the whole, body needs rest thing, huh?”

Castiel nodded and took a seat across from the taller brother. He tried to focus.

“Dean is okay? He was released under good circumstances?”

Sam sighed in relief and shook his head. “Yeah. Yeah, they said everything is good. It’s a normal thing, I know. A friend of mine from college actually had the same thing happen. She’s fine. I mean a lot of people have it done.”

Castiel nodded. That’s what he should do, right? Nod. He should agree that what Sam just said is true, Dean is fine. _Dean is alright_. He doesn’t need to be saved.

But despite Castiel’s eager nod, he could see the way Sam shifted in his seat. If there was one thing Castiel was starting to catch onto, it was body language.

Sam’s gaze lingered on Cas for a moment longer before he got up from his chair. “Hey, you want a beer?”

Castiel was grateful for the change of focus, and even if he wasn’t quite in the mood for another Winger, he nodded thankfully.

Sam took care to open the bottles quietly before placing one in front of the angel.

“Thank you,” Cas said.

“You got it.”

For a few, long minutes both of them just sat there, quietly sipping their beers. Castiel tried to focus on something to keep his head on straight, to stop from thinking about the dream, about the guilt he felt from kissing Dean, even if it was a dream, even if Dean had maybe meant that he wanted it, even if Dean had kissed him back.

A flush of embarrassment and shame crept over Castiel’s cheeks. He looked at his hands, but he saw them in Dean’s wet, blonde locks. He looked at his trench coat, but he saw Dean’s desperate grip on his forearms. He looked at his beer bottle, and there, in the middle of the label, were two giant white wings with a black mark in the shape of a lipstick kiss.

Castiel swallowed.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Sam said, suddenly making things feel even more awkward.

Cas gave an honest squint.

“Did—did you talk about something? With Dean? In the hospital?” Sam asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like did he mention anything weird, or something? Or do anything different? Because he was acting really strange after you left.”

Cas focused in on the kiss-mark on his beer.

“He was… “ Cas started, remembering the nurses words when she’d come in to check on Dean, “…a bit loopy.”

“Yeah,” Sam chuckled. “No kidding. He was talking about pies and cakes and comparing the shade of ocean blue to what he called ‘sub-quality’ blues. I couldn’t make this or that of it.”

Castiel shifted in his seat, only to realize what that meant.

Body language.

“I figured it was the pain meds that were making him so out-of-it, though,” Sam said. “He took one this morning before I got in to pick him up. They should have worn off by now, but I don’t want to wake him up just to take another. He was still kind of delirious when I came in to get him. And… and he was praying to you.”

“He was praying?”

“Yeah. When I walked in, he was… he was sitting slumped on the side of the bed. I heard him say your name, but when I came in, he stopped. He told me was praying.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. That’s kind of why I was asking you about what he said.”

Castiel rubbed the label of his beer with his thumb.

“I—I don’t know,” was all the angel managed to say.

Sam shook his head.

“The things Dean was saying… why do you think he said them?” Cas asked.

Sam just shrugged.

“I don’t know. I mean they didn’t make sense, but… you know what they say. A drunk mind speaks a sober heart.”

Castiel was about to say, _but Dean wasn’t drunk_ , but he immediately knew what Sam meant.

He looked to the kitchen door and saw the last of the sun rays coming through the slats.

“Anyway, I want to run out and pick up some things so we have some grub for when he wakes up. Maybe get him to eat something,” Sam said, standing up.

He finished his beer with a long swallow, and placed it back on the table.

“I’ll see you in a few, okay?”

Castiel nodded, again, and looked steadily at Sam.

“I’ll watch over him.”

The corner of Sam’s mouth ticked up and he nodded in return.

“I know you will.”

Within a minute, Sam was out the door and the sound of the Impala was fading in the distance. It was a few more minutes, sitting alone in the out dated kitchen, until he finished the last sip of his beer and stood up to put both empty bottles in the trash can as quietly as he could. He managed to place them with barely a clink when his phone started to vibrate.

It was a text message from Sam.

               _Can u send pic of list? Forgot it on table_

               Cas looked on the table, then turned to find a small list on the kitchen counter. He placed it in better light on the little round table where the light was shining and angled his phone for a picture—but he forgot to click the shutter. He was too busy reading the list.

               _Beer, peanut butter pretzels, burritos, Doritos, 5-Hour Energy, popsicles, pie_.

               But the last item on the list wasn’t in Sam’s handwriting.

               It was in Dean’s.

               And it read, in scrawling, messy cursive, _angel food cake_.

\--

               After Cas sent the message to Sam and had another beer, the second to last in the fridge, he felt confident enough to walk out of the kitchen and into the living area.

               The entire room was dim and the first thing Castiel did was walk to the nightstand by the bed and turn on the light. It was far enough from Dean not to disturb him, but enough to see a bit better should he wake up and not remember where he was. Castiel didn’t want him to wake up nervous. Or confused. Or unsure of what was reality or what wasn’t.

               Cas smoothed the beds over, shut off the alarms on the clocks, and then took a seat in the chair next to the couch. And he watched over Dean.

               For a while he sat there, unsure of what to do. It felt like he shouldn’t be so close to Dean. He felt guilty, as if he’d done something wrong, as if even now, just watching over Dean was crossing some kind of line. But he sat there anyway, because even though Dean didn’t need to be saved, he still needed protection. If anything were to come through the door now, Dean wouldn’t be ready for it and he might not even be coherent. Even though, Sam did say the medication should have worn off hours ago… which is why when Dean started to stir and his eyes shifted beneath his lids, Castiel straightened his back in his chair and watched very, very closely.

               Dean’s eyes opened slowly.

               Cas’s lips popped open, but what he intended to say, _Dean_ , didn’t come out.

               His voice was gone. Just like the dream.

               “Cas?”

               The angel nodded, then cleared his throat.

               “Dean,” he breathed. “How are you feeling?”

               Dean grimaced and briefly turned his head into the couch cushion before opening his eyes back to Castiel. He looked deep in thought, or, just confused and ambivalent about it.

               “Alright,” he said.

               “Do you… is there any pain? Does it…” Castiel paused, feeling childish. “Does it feel like anything is missing?”

               For a long moment Dean stared at Castiel, but then he smirked. When he spoke, his voice was groggy and rough.

               “No. No, Cas. Whole as pie.”

               At this Cas let out a little laugh. He pressed his chapped lips together.

               “Where’s Sammy?” Dean asked.

               “He went out to get some food for dinner in hopes that you’d be up for eating something when you woke.”

               “After all that hospital food? How could I resist?” Dean said. But when he said it, his body didn’t match his words. He didn’t look hungry or convinced that he’d be able to eat at all.

               Castiel nodded at Dean, suddenly aware of his natural tendency to look at his lips rather than his eyes when talking. He swallowed hard and kept nodding.

               As groggy as Dean was, he picked up the change in the angel.

               “What about you?” Dean clipped with a squint. “You alright? Archangel’s comin’ at you in the night? Look like you’re trying to shake off a nightmare.”

               _A nightmare_ , Castiel thought. _It started as a nightmare, but it wasn’t a nightmare. It was… it was--_

               “I’ll go get you some water,” Cas said, rising from his chair faster than necessary.

               “Whoa, whoa, whoa, there, cowboy,” Dean said, stopping Cas in his track to the kitchen. He put a hand down to lever his body upright on the couch. He groaned. His whole body moved like an old man, slow, pained, and shaking. When he was finally sitting as he wanted, he refocused his gaze on Castiel, frozen awkwardly in the center of the living room, hands at his sides, looking much like he did when Dean took him to the _den of inequity_ on their first night on the town together.

                Their eyes locked. Cas took note of Dean’s hair shooting up in all different directions, his slumped shoulders covered in an old worn t-shirt, and the way the lamp shot light shadows over the side of his face.

               “Cas, I—“ Dean started, an obvious  flush blooming over his face despite the dim lighting.

               Castiel braced himself.

               “Cas, I remember what I, uh—“

               “You remember?”

               “Yeah. Yeah, I, uh. I mean, I was loopy,” Dean chuckled, “but I remember clear as day.”

               Castiel could hear his human heart beat through his ears. It sounded a lot like the beat to a song Cas had gotten to know quite well. _Heat of the Moment_.

               “Dean. Dean, I’m so—“

               “I didn’t, I mean, I didn’t want to, uh, I mean I appreciate the whole appendix offering. That was cute. Really cute, actually. Heh. But, I—“

               Castiel’s mind latched onto what he said for a moment. _Did he just call what I did cute?_ And then he had another thought. _He’s talking about what he said when he was out of it. Not the dream. He doesn’t mean he remembers the dream_.

               “I didn’t mean to, to, uh, have such a loose tongue, if you know what I mean.”

               “It’s not a problem, Dean. I’ll always protect you,” Castiel said with a serious nod.

               “I know. I know, Cas. I just, I want you to know, the things that I said, or, or did—“

               “I will forget them, Dean. I know you said you remember what happened, but, as a reminder, I assured you at the hospital that nothing you did or said would be misconstrued. That assurance remains true. I understand the… uniqueness of your situation, and I hold you accountable for none of it. There is no need to apologize.”

               Dean sat unmoving on the couch, taking in what the angel was saying. He seemed to be using his grip on the seat cushions to keep himself upright. He looked weak, as if he was having difficulty just remaining in that position and having conversation, but the gears behind his eyes were whizzing away.

               There was an endless moment of silence between them that seemed to take up all the emotional space the room could possibly contain.

               Dean shook his head. “Right, right,” he said. “I—I know. Uh, thanks.” He continued nodding, just as Cas had been doing just moment before, an awkward continuation of a feeling he couldn’t quite explain.

               Cas nodded back, eyes cast down to the wooden floor boards.

               After another long moment, Cas moved to walk around the couch to the kitchen, his mind reeling with thoughts of how this conversation could go, of all the things that could be brought up, fleshed out, spoken after all of these years of being unspoken between them, no matter the opposing feelings of the other party. This conversation could be everything he’s ever waited for, at least to be a conclusion, whether Dean rejected or accepted how Castiel felt. Castiel knew it would never be a redemption, but perhaps, it could have been a resolution, so Cas could finally put the feeling that Dean may, _just maybe might_ have a shred of true feelings for him. He would never say what Cas wanted to hear, he knew, but at least he’d hear it from Dean. At least he’d know. But walking past the couch, Castiel felt he was leaving a part of him behind, a part of him that made him uniquely human, a part of him that Dean had created inside Castiel. A part of him Castiel was nothing but a vessel without.

               “Did you hear me?” Dean said with his back to the angel, stopping Cas as he reached for the kitchen door.

               Castiel stopped and dropped his hand. He looked over his shoulder at his green eyed charge.

               “I’m sorry?” Castiel asked.

               “I prayed to you. Did you hear me?”

               Cas’s heartbeat returned to his ears. He had a flash of the feeling of uselessness splinter into his thoughts, but the numbness overtaking his mind was a tough competitor.

               “I—I don’t believe I did, Dean. I’m sorry. I’m afraid my grace is next to nothing these days.”

               Dean turned to look over his shoulder at Cas. He looked as if he as searching for an answer, as if what Castiel said didn’t make sense. And then a look of surrender fell across Dean’s face, and he dropped his head.

               “Castiel…”

               _Castiel_ , Cas thought. _Castiel. My full name._ Dean. _Dean_!

               And just like that, it came back to him. Castiel had heard Dean’s prayer. It was Dean he heard in his head before he fell asleep in the hotel, Dean saying his name, _Castiel_.

Castiel had heard him. He heard Dean’s prayer!

               But he hadn’t responded. He’d fallen asleep.

               He’d had that nightmare turned into a dream, the one that didn’t make sense, but also felt so real that he was almost sure it had been…

               Castiel’s heart skipped a half-beat.

               “You called me,” Castiel said suddenly.

               Dean turned back around to look at his angel, green eyes caught in the light.

               “You called me. I remember,” he repeated.

               Dean nodded, now looking unsure of himself, but seeing the same look of confusion in Cas.

               Dean chose his next words carefully, and said them slowly. Controlled. Prepared to measure Castiel’s response.

               “You answered.”

               “I—“

               But Castiel didn’t know how to respond. He answered Dean’s prayer. He answered?

               _He answered_.

The dream must have almost been an involuntary slip of Castiel’s grace. He’d barely had any power in the dream. He couldn’t walk, or speak, or even realize he was in the dream at first. He didn’t even realize he was dreaming. He didn’t enter the dream willingly. He didn’t reach out for contact. But his subconscious picked up Dean’s prayer, and he slipped into a dream, a dream that was actually an answer to a prayer from his human, from Dean Winchester. Even with no power, the angel had an automated, unconscious response to Dean’s prayer, a connection without even trying to connect.

               Castiel had answered Dean’s prayer. And that means both Castiel and Dean remembered exactly what happened, and that both of them, Castiel and Dean, had been pressed together at the lips, gripping ravenously at each other, kissing cheek, and lip, and tongue, and struggling to hold onto each other despite everything that was going on around them.

               Castiel and Dean both knew that the other knew that they’d done it. They’d done more than just brush lips, they’d kissed each other in the dreamscape.

               The moment of tension came to a peak. They both thought the same thing, but as always, it was unspoken, just beneath the surface of reality, of being spoken into existence, of being real. It could end up like it always has, being stored up, shut down, pushed down, away from their minds and lips and actions and acknowledgement. It could evaporate in an instant, go back to how it’s always been. Voiceless. Non-existent.

               But Dean broke the silence.

               “Thank you.”

               Castiel’s lips popped open to take a sharp inhale. Air. Breathe.

_Dean_.

               “Thank you for saving me,” he said again, and just like that, all of Castiel’s world, his Earth, began to move. Castiel became the spinning axis of a landscape that he’d always admired, and dreamed about, and taken care of. He became everything he wanted to be, for himself, for Dean, for humanity. He became something he was proud of, even without his grace. He became human, whole, saved. He breathed in the air from the world around him, an angel in a human vessel, ready to do anything for the so few that he loved more than anything. He existed, and he existed for the reason he wanted to exist, his _chosen_ mission. He _had_ been there, and he’d done what Dean wanted.

               He’d done _what Dean wanted_.

               _He’d saved Dean Winchester._

               Breath came back to Castiel in the form of electric energy all throughout his body. All his muscles relaxed and then the words he wanted to say ground in his throat, so that when he spoke, it was a breath-y whisper of a phrase.

               “You called for me. You prayed. I’ll always—I’ll always—“

               Somehow Castiel felt his eyes were getting wet. His bottom lip quivered a single time before he composed himself enough to say the only other thing he felt he could say to tell Dean what he meant, to encapsulate his promise, his devotion, his oath, to always be the one there to save him.  

“ _Always_ , Dean,” he breathed out.

               Dean nodded, eyes relaxed, until a smirk lifted his expression. The glimmer in his eyes, the way he looked at Castiel, it was the way he had always wanted Dean to look at him. It wasn’t just gratitude, or appreciation. It was more than Castiel could ever have asked for. It was a sober heart acknowledging what was always kept silent in all the moments where they’d locked eyes and never said a word. It was Dean Winchester telling him thank you, telling him exactly what he never thought he’d hear from those lips.

And he knew exactly what it meant.

You are the only one I _want_ to save me.

              

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge apology for the wait on this one. I think I'm writing at a pace of one chapter a year. Astonishing! I race the sloths! I hope all of you enjoyed it, and that it was still good reads despite the wait. I've been writing like a banshee for the last month since I moved to California (from New Jersey!) so I hope to eventually fit some fan fiction in between getting my novel back together. All my love! - S


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